


The West Woods

by CaktusJuice (masqueOFmacabre)



Series: The Hideaway [1]
Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Just sort of the ups and downs when you have to fight for your life, M/M, Separation Anxiety, Survival, Survival Horror, Temporary Character Death, There are also happy times, There are sad/scary moments, Violence, but don't worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-19
Packaged: 2018-09-15 11:04:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 14
Words: 18,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9232046
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/masqueOFmacabre/pseuds/CaktusJuice
Summary: Woodie has never experienced a red hot blush upon his cheeks at the sight of another human being before, and he thought he never would after being dragged into this hell. But after meeting a reserved but productive and determined mime named Wes that's likely about to change.The two begin to grow together, working cooperatively to survive in a land without comfort or forgiveness. And as it draws them closer the fear of being alone again begins to boil. Through hound attacks and the terror of the full moon the two will fight harder now than ever before.





	1. A Wes in the Woods

**Author's Note:**

  * For [VescenBubbles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/VescenBubbles/gifts).



Dawn broke like any other to the sound of Catcoons meowling as they crawled out of their burrows and the din of bees buzzing around the field. A field in which a small home had been made with lumpy stone pillars lined up to keep out hounds or other creatures, and a wooden door that splintered and hitched awkwardly. Wooden boards covered part of the earth within the stone wall, a floor half finished at the time. Bedrolls stayed rolled out where upon - on two separate sides of a dwindling fire inside a pit - slept two figures.

The first was a lanky thing, with arms like noodles and legs like twigs, and a face shaped like an almond. A long face with a pointed chin above which set a mouth with uncharacteristically plump lips painted black as the hair atop his head. At the center of his face was a pointed and defined nose that seemed sharp if not for the very small rounding at the tip. The rest of his features were painted white except his eyelids -which were brushed with a dull purple - and his cheeks, covered in a prominent red blush that made clear his occupation, which was a mime. And his name was Wes.

The second Figure laying upon the ground was a man of work. Though he had a thinner waist his chest and arms were built from the hard work he did as a lumberjack. He had an orange beard that covered all of his upper lip, but left enough room for the lower one to protrude, and there was the spot where one could see two teeth -bucked and gaped- resting upon it. From his head to his toe the man was covered in red hairs, his arms most so and his chest, seen from the way his shirt opened slightly at the top and the soft red fur stuck out. This man's name was Woodie and it was he who woke first.

Woodie rolled to one side. He rolled to the other side. Then he wheeled onto his stomach and propped himself upon his elbows, his hands rose-up to scrub at his face. He opened his eyes and breathed sharply through his nose. Above the blades of grass woven together to make a pillow rested his trusty ax, Lucy. He reached out to her, wrapping his hand about her and grumbling a dry 'g'morning' and he heard her hum sharply back in greeting.

Lifting himself he dusted his pants of the flaky dried grass bits, a dusty bedroll it was but a bedroll nonetheless, and he moved to stir the fire to keep it alive just long enough to make breakfast.

'How did you sleep, big guy?'

He could hear her grating voice in his ears. To others the sound might be unpleasant but Woodie found it quite comforting and he relaxed as he pulled some morsels from his bag. There had been rabbits in the garden last night and Woodie had sneaked in to kill them before they hurt the crops. He began to cook them over the fire while he chatted quietly with Lucy. Small talk at first, and then of plans later in the day.

It was moments like this that relaxed Woodie. They gave him a little break from the danger around them and made him feel like they were back home. And then he remembered the sleeping figure laying on the ground across from him.

'Woodie, you're staring again.'

"I'm not starin', I'm just lookin' a minute, eh?"

'You're staring.'

There was no point arguing with her, he'd tried before and still the ol' girl would continue to push this idea that he was staring at the mime. He wasn't staring, not for any strange reason anyway. He just worried about the other man. Wes was small, scrawny, and seeming to shrink more so as the days went on. With winter coming Woodie's fear the other would starve was surfacing.

For just a moment Woodie could have sworn the other had stopped breathing. He jumped and stood quickly, taking large strides to close the distance, then he knelt next to the man. His fingers pressed to Wes's pulse and his teeth grit nervously.

The mime stirred.

With a sigh of relief Woodie sat back and exhaled hard, giving a relieved chuckle and smiled into his hands. Wes propped himself up on his elbow and rubbed the sleep from his eyes with a gloved hand before taking a deep breath, huffing it out quickly, and looking to Woodie. His pale gray eyes held inquiry and Woodie tried his best to smile at the other.

"Sorry, just chekin' on yah. You scared me there a moment."

Wes waved his hand about in dismissal a 'fine, it's fine' sort of movement, and he stood up. He dusted himself as the other had earlier and he looked to the fire where some morsels lay next to it.

"You eat those for me, I'm gonna go chop some more wood. Try to find yourself some more food, some that'll last a bit if yah can. The winter is comin'."

Wes nodded. His smile pulling those glistening black lips into a smirking kissable expression. Woodie felt an itch shoot down his spine and his eyes went wide. Right, trees. He had to chop some trees. Woodie saw himself to the splintered gate with the awkward hitches in the woodwork and let himself out.

Past the pale yellowed colour of beehives and the hissing of the neighboring catcoons Woodie trudged. Past a small miniature forest he had planted by hand (in apology to what he'd done to the trees the cones used to be attached to) and into a heavily wooded area that he had yet to wreak havoc on. He began his chopping and Lucy spoke to him.

'You like him, don't you? '

"I was worried about him, that's all."

'For someone who was just worried about him you sure did stare a lot.'

"I'm serious! I don't want him kickin' the bucket on us."

Why was Lucy teasing him so much for looking at Wes? He supposed Lucy was a far simpler creature. Content as long as she was in Woodie's hands, she didn't really need anyone else. The way she saw things it was Lucy and Woodie against the world. But Woodie remembered the night he'd met Wes. He remembered the impression it had left.

* * *

  
Ghostly grey orbs glistened up like a deer in a headlight, reflecting the flame of the torch held in Woodie's hand. If not for the lack of solid form he'd have thought that the lanky man on the ground was a specter come from a grave that had been disturbed. But the solid form and definite colour to the clothes the figure wore was enough to put Woodie's fear at ease.

Woodie had been resurrected that morning in the afternoon, already nearing sunset, and he had worked quickly gathering the utensils to make his torch, then he had set off into the woods in search of a field to make his base. He was still wandering through the woods late into the night and hadn't been expecting to bump into - in quite the literal sense - another living human being!

In all the time Woodie had been here, dying and living and dying again, never once had he come across another human. He had thought himself alone except for Lucy, but she was simply his ax, not someone who could offer much more comfort than a friendly voice now and again. She kept him level headed of course, but the familiarity of a human form was something he'd all but given up hoping to see, unless it were a skeleton whose bones were bare of meat and eyes turned to rot in its head.

The man's lower lip -painted black as the night around them- trembled with fear, and he shook and quivered with nervousness at the sight of the other. Uncertainty evident in his expression. The lumberjack couldn't blame him, the man had probably not seen another human for a long time also.

Tension hung between them, they stared in silence at each other, seemingly unsure of what the other might do. Even Lucy had stopped her talking, which was making Woodie's nerves spike terribly. And the suspense was only broken when the torch on the ground - the one the man had dropped - started to go out. The ghostly man had moved quickly, grabbed it, and began blowing to keep the glow as bright as he could. Then he stood and dusted himself.

"I didn't know there were other people here," Woodie croaked out.

The man shrugged.

"You come across any others?"

He shook his head.

"Wha's yer name?"

The man drew his name in the dark with his torch.

W.

E.

S.

"Alright, Wes. I'm Woodie. Can yah talk?"

There was a pause, the man bit his lip as though in thought, and then he shook his head. Woodie nodded then and huffed in defeat. This would be difficult, wouldn't it?

The men stood there in silence, kicking dirt and looking about awkwardly, each not quite sure how to react to the other. The sound of hounds in the distance made them both lift their heads up. Their eyes locked and it was then - by some unspoken agreement - that they began walking together and away from the noise.

After a time the three of them - Woodie, Lucy, and Wes- happened upon an open field, the golden grass perfectly flat for creating a base. Woodie had picked up a few logs off past survivors -ones he simply assumed were the decayed corpses of himself- and picked stones off of them and he had the means to make a firepit.

He stuck his torch in the ground and placed the stones in a circle. Once the pit was made he filled it with wood and lit it up, illuminating the field for them to see. A stray catcoon in the distance mewled and sprang away from the light off into the tall grass.

Wes retrieved from his bag several morsels and began to cook them over the fire. Once they were done he separated them into two even piles and handed half to Woodie. The woodsman wasn't at all sure why the other so willingly was sharing with him, especially after just meeting and having had no more than a one sided conversation with him, but he took the kindness as a good sign and took his fill of the food.

Wes had an apatite from hell, and it was as though he practically inhaled the food. Woodie was not entirely sure how someone with an appetite like that could be so scrawny. Nevertheless Wes was finished with his own food long before Woodie had made a dent, and the man stood, moving a little bit away from the fire, but sure to stay in its light. He retrieved several items from his bag and set to crafting. An hour in time passed, two hours, three. And when he was done there were two functioning machines that whirred and buzzed.

Woodie was certain that in the morning the man would have wondered off, found his own spot along the strip of flatland, built his own fire, and functioned as a neighbor to him. By the looks of the two machines behind him however, this was not the case, a rather bold statement that Wes was planning to camp with him, and for quite some time.

Woodie would have been furious about this boldness, if not for the lack of human interaction he had suffered for the longest time. So the gesture was not entirely unwelcome and Woodie chose not to say anything that would make Wes feel otherwise, even if it was in him to make a remark that Wes had a lot of guts to make assumptions. He made it a point not to ruin his chance at social interaction, which was something that -until very recently- he hadn't valued in the slightest.

When Wes returned to be close to the campfire he took a seat on the ground and stared into the fire with a ghostly quietness that brought chills onto Woodie's skin. The lumberjack cleared his throat to get his attention.

"How many days yah been here?"

Wes moved his hand, drawing a single tally-mark in the dirt. One day and already he had the utensils to build these contraptions. Either he was a fast worker, or a very very determined one.

"How many times have you been here before?"

Wes shrugged.

"Lost count?"

A nod.

Woodie nodded in understanding, because he too had lost count of how many times he had failed to survive. Spiders, and Tallbirds, and Killer Bees, and Hounds, and Hypothermia, and Insanity; and all had played some part in the past, all were very painful memories. So he made it a point not to inquire about what took Wes out the last time, even if his curiosity was nagging at him.

Wes yawned, and rubbed at his eyes with his gloved hands, lay down on the ground, making it clear he was done with conversation for the time, and tried his best to sleep. Woodie stared at him.

The lumberjack was - for the first time since he had been dragged into this hell - overcome with a feeling of comfort that he was not alone. Someone else was here. Someone else knew how hard it was. Someone else knew his pain, and he was comforted enough to get some rest.

In the morning he woke before Wes had, and he went out to collect Fire wood. When he returned he found the beginnings of stone pillars surrounding part of their camp, and Wes sitting at a small fire cooking what looked to be meat off the thigh of some mammal, what he wasn't quite sure but with the excess of Catcoons he could guess he knew, and he was Impressed with all Wes had done.

* * *

 

'Wow! Slow down, big guy! It's just a tree!'

At the sound of Lucy's grating voice he was pulled from his memory. His teeth were aching, threatening to tear his gums open, and his tailbone felt as though it might split through the flesh of his back. He panted hard and looked around at all the logs he had failed to pick up in his haze. He blinked, shook his head, and ran his hands through his hair with a tug to regain himself.

Gathering a few logs he set to eat the bark so he could keep himself at ease, if only for a while longer. They couldn't afford any mishaps today. Then, once he was finished gnawing on the log he dusted himself, gathered the rest and headed back toward home.

Wes had put a lot of effort into the walls, making a garden behind it which he worked in daily, and a room for Woodie should he want to have a farm. But today there was something new attached to their house. Another room had been built and there in stood a large birdcage and Wes, dusting his hands of his work and wiping his sweat from his brow. With a smile he waved to Woodie, who only saw the birdcage and felt a hot dread settle in his stomach.

Oh.

No.


	2. Caged

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Simple talks and a minor disagreement. Woodie will just have to live with it.

Everything from the wooden floor to the very stone that protected them from the hounds Wes had built with his own hands. And when he had finished building their home he planted a garden, and the garden kept him busy with planting, and fertilizing, and watering, and trimming. And that got to where it was tamed, and he hadn't much to do but water the plants in the day and trim a few stray twigs from the berry bushes. And so he would occupy himself with Woodie's farms, watering the vegetables. And one particular day when he was very bored after having finished all his work he made a sign for the front, a sign for the garden, and a sign for the farms.

And he could still recall the look of confusion when Woodie came home that night and read aloud 'WesWood Residence' on the signpost.

But after it was all done there wasn't much left to do but sit around and wait for the day to end, unless by lucky chance he could harvest honey from an empty hive or pick up the meat from an unfortunate catcoon. And after that there was nothing left to do.

Wes was left home alone waiting for Woodie to return, and he would sit bored, for the time because he'd eaten, and he'd made boards, and he made chests, but those were things that didn't take long enough to fill his time. So he decided -after eating his breakfast- that he should make himself an Avian Room. And so he set out to gather twigs and seeds, and reeds to make paper, and he broke into his stash of rocks and gold.

He broke two pillars of the west wall in the front room to make a doorway, and then he began setting down new pillars to shape his new hobby room. After he had finished with the size and shape of the room he began to piece together the cage, and when that was done he placed it in the back of the room, in the corner, because there was more to come and there would be rows of them. Then he dusted his hands and smiled at his work, looking up just in time to see Woodie returning home.

He gave him a wave in greeting only to have a look of concern returned to him.

"A birdcage?" Woodie groaned.

And Wes nodded his head. Yes a bird cage! After all he needed something to spend his time on.

"You're kidding right?"

Wes knew how badly the lumberjack detested birds, but he was certain -after he got a few eggs out of the feathered creatures- that he would find himself far more civil about their presence, but Woodie only groaned again and Wes could see the tension forming on his brow.

Wes pouted his lip and moved to open the gate and place his hand on the other man's back. He guided him to sit down by the fire pit, and got him some carrot juice from a container they had made. He handed it to Woodie who nodded and drank eagerly, having been out chopping all day.

Wes looked again at his bird cage and his nose twitched, not unlike a Rabbits, and he stepped to one of their chests to pull out some silk and twigs. He crafted himself a fine bird trap and set it down, baiting it with seeds and stepping back into the front room with Woodie who rubbed his face.

"You're kiddin' right? You're not actually gonna have a buncha birds, are yah?"

But Wes only smiled at the man and nodded his head.

"They'll be chirping at god awful hours of the mornin'! Why would yah want that?"

Wes simply smiled and patted his tummy and pointed to a Tallbird egg they had managed to snag.

"Eggs?"

He nodded his head.

Woodie sighed and rubbed his face but didn't argue any further. Wes was pleased with this, but unsure as to why Woodie was so against his idea. It was a good idea, and he knew the birds would eat meat that had gone bad as long as it were cooked, so they would be able to get rid of some trash that had been left. And of course there was the eggs.

Wes and Woodie couldn't eat rotten meat, so the birds would help dispose of it, and in return they would get fresh eggs that they could cook. It was a fair deal, and Wes would handle it all. After all, Woodie did so much on his own, all of the hard work of chopping and mining. So Wes didn't mind taking on one more thing to help out.

Woody groaned but was finally removing his hands from his face and taking the bag off his back. He removed a satchel of berries from it and handed them to Wes. Wes smiled at this and moved to start a small fire to cook them over.

While Wes cooked Woodie chatted with his ax, Lucy. Wes gave a worried look at the fire. Woodie was a good man. He was a hard worker, a kind heart, and an attentive fellow who went out of his way to communicate with Wes. But the mime did worry for the woodsman's state of mind. Wes could not hear the sharp calls of Lucy, and as such worried when the other would begin holding full conversation with the inanimate object.

He made not a gesture to let this be known to the other. It was likely a coping mechanism, and Wes did not wish to judge the other for seeking comfort, no matter how odd the method might be.

Wes finished with the berries and split them into even piles. He handed the first half to Woodie and kept the second half for himself, and they sat in silence eating for a time before Woodie spoke again.

"Winter's comin', we're gonna need some warmer clothes." He mused, though whether this statement was directly to Wes the mime wasn't sure.

Either way he nodded his head in acknowledgment and made a mental note to find materials to craft winter attire for them.

With the winter so close the days were getting colder, and neither quite fancied freezing to death. It was one of the worst ways to go, next to starving as it were. They were long deaths, painful, and they dragged out too long for anyone to garner any peace from the release of it. No matter how many times Wes went through it himself he never did get used to it, he never was able to take it even knowing soon he would be warm again.

The snapping sound of a bird trap being set off and heavy batting of wings jolted him from his thoughts and he looked at the bird in the cage. It was a redbird and Wes smiled to it as he approached. Calmly he pried the cage open and gripped the bird. Softly he smoothed his thumb down its back, waiting till it had calmed some before moving to the cage to put the bird into it.

He turned then and smiled to Woodie who looked back at him skeptically.

Wes only shrugged and returned to sit next to the fire, Woodie would simply have to co-exist with the bird, that's all there was to it. He'd learn.


	3. Death to Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woodie has a terrible secret.

Though his hatred of birds festered and burned in his gut whenever the morning broke and the birds in their cages would cheep and chirp, Woodie had indeed grown to appreciate what they had to offer. Their eggs kept them fed and the feathers they dropped were saved up to be used as kindling for the fire. 

The birds, though Woodie hated to admit it, had been a good move on Wes' part. They cleaned up any excess of otherwise useless monster meat, and they were used as disposal for meat that had gone bad. As long as both had been cooked the birds seemed to enjoy it. The two -Wes and Woodie- had really come to rely on the eggs the birds offered them. 

Wes had been setting up traps around spider dens, just outside of their webs. The spiders would inevitably come out at night and find themselves stuck in Wes' rabbit traps. Wes would harvest from this meat, glands (which were always sought after for they made good medicine), and silk for bird traps or fishing rods. Sometimes he could even use the silk to patch their clothes. 

Woodie was very impressed with the work Wes put in to caring for them. It was true that Woodie did most of the hard labor for the house, but he was amazed with how comfortable his life was, how much easier it was, now that Wes was with him. 

He had luxuries he never had before with Berries and eggs, mended clothes and a meal cooked every night before he got home. And he thought about his life now, and how Wes would go out of his way at times to make Woodie comfortable and his cheeks felt warm and his stomach felt empty -though not hungry-, and this was something he just couldn't explain. 

Lucy liked to act as though she knew something when he would get these feelings. She would tease him, and poke fun. As though there were anything to be poked fun at. He wasn't sure why she acted like this, as far as Woodie could tell there was nothing there for her to take on such tone of voice. 

Nonetheless she teased him anyway, and he let her do it if only to avoid argument with her. 

When she wasn't teasing him she was giving him reminders. Warnings. Cautionary words of advice. And it forced him to remember that not all was comfort here, even with Wes taking care of him. 

He tallied the days on a stack of papers. He numbered them and watched them carefully. Five, four, three days till the full moon. The moon allowed Wes to get more done, its light allowing him out to collect more materials and gather more food. For Woodie the full moon only brought dread, and he'd been very careful not to let Wes find out about his secret. 

On the night of the full moon Woodie would wander off, allow himself to change away from Wes' unsuspecting gaze, and run the forest destroying the plant life. In the mornings he always collected any pine cones the trees had dropped. He took them back closer to the house and planted them, ensuring there would still be firewood in the days to come. 

The days leading up to the full moon he spent at home with Wes. He helped reinforce the walls and door. He helped him gather monster meat, and silk, and glands. He helped him in the garden, and even with his birds. Somewhere in Woodie's gut was a feeling of guilt he just couldn't place, like he were a burden on Wes. 

What if the mime found out what he was? What if Wes discovered he wasn't being entirely truthful? What if he ended up changing too close to home and Wes got hurt by him? 

All these were worries that ran through his head. 

And as always the full moon came too soon for the lumberjack and he wandered off into the woods to change, leaving Lucy back at home. His teeth tore through his gums, and his spine grew long and broke through the flesh at the base of his back. Every bone in him snapped and popped and mended together into his new form, and every moment was painful. 

He ran the forest, gnawing into the bark of trees, and breaking through the nearby boulders. He wouldn't remember a single bit of it in the morning. The night would be hazy as it always was, with only the destruction around him as a reminder. 

As morning light broke the beaver became calmed, and Woodie woke up, worn and tired but definitely himself, and he made his way back to camp where Wes was standing, staring at the garden. 

Woodie had not noticed it until now. The first frost of the year had covered the ground and curled the leaves of Wes' berry bushes. 

Winter was coming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A bit shorter than the last chapters, but I'm hoping to really just write the dang story and not worry about length. Quality over quantity is how I've decided to handle this story. I hope everyone appreciates it anyway.


	4. Nice and Warm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes prepares for the winter.

The night was terribly cold and the two of them spent it shivering even close to the fire. Wes had retrieved rocks from one of their chests and using their alchemy machine he prototyped a thermal stone. He made a second which he gave to Woodie. Neither of them slept that night. The chill in the air too uncomfortable for them to find any rest. And they nestled under their grass sleeping bags, looking for any warmth they could find. Both of them exchanged looks of nervousness back and forth. This was cold, but it was nothing compared to what the winter would bring them. 

In the morning, after things had become warmer, Wes crawled out from beneath his grass bed mat and left the house. He checked his traps as always, gathering silk and meat from them. There were no glands this time, but he tried not to worry. They had saved up enough at this time. 

He adjusted the backpack he wore and he wandered around looking for something, for anything he might be able to make useful. He did find some tails. Catcoon tails as they were. He had come to find that - for whatever reason - this part of the animal did not decay when the rest of it did, and spiders seemed not to like the meat of it. 

Struck by an epiphany he began to collect any tails he could find. He had a plan he was certain would work, if he had enough materials. He spent the day gathering, ignoring the nip of the chilly air against his cheeks. He collected all the tails he could and headed home. 

Woodie seemed confused when he produced all the tails from his bag, spilling them into the alchemy machine and combining them with the string they'd woven from the silk. Much to Wes' delight, which he made clear by leaning on an 'invisable wall' and prompting cheers from an absent audience, two caps were produced with striped patterns along them. 

Woodie stared impressed by the product and poked at the fire with a stick to stir it. Wes smirked and bounced his eyebrows at the man before him, rather impressed himself, and more than cocky enough to look for praise from Woodie. Woodie chuckled and nodded his head. 

"I like 'em. They're gonna be nice an' warm when the snow comes." 

Wes smiled and nodded his head. He found Woodie quite handsome, and even more handsome when he was receiving compliments from him. But he was almost certain the man had no interest in him, and he left the subject me for now. 

In the early days of their settling Wes had come across the remains of many survivors, and he'd been lucky enough to collect a good amount of rabbit fur. It wasn't as though they would have any use for it these days anyway being dead, and Wes and Woodie were alive and needed the warmth more than them. 

Wes took their bedrolls then and wove the tufts into them, and Woodie watched him blinking with what seemed to be utter shock. 

"That's a good idea!" Woodie exclaimed, getting a bit closer to watch what Wes was doing. 

The mime smiled at the others interest in his work. Woodie made him feel very appreciated, and after so long without a lick of affection Wes craved the attention. 

Woodie watched for a time and then moved to retrieve food to bring to the fire to begin cooking. Wes stopped in his work, looking up to the man. His eyes alone held enough inquiry to prompt the answer he was looking for from the lumberjack. 

"I've been sittin' at home all day. You've been out getting stuff to keep us warm, and keep the house comfy. The least I can do is make yah dinner." 

Wes felt his heart swell, his cheeks warm and he smiled at this and looked back to his work. This feeling in him, it was not one he was unfamiliar with. He'd felt it before a handful of times, and he knew it as infatuation. But he would spare Woodie his advances, content to just live with him, to survive. They worked well together and Wes needed nothing more than that. 

He was happy. 

By the time Wes was finished with his work on the mats the food was done. He lay the mats out and took his food from the other man with a thankful nod. He then set to eat, listening to Woodie bicker with the ax. A one sided conversation with Lucy as usual. Wes didn't let this bother him, only focused on his food. 

When the both of them had finished dinner and the birds had been fed, Wes and Woodie crawled into their sleeping bags. The fur against their skins was soft and warm, and it was the most comfortable they had been in their time here. They slept soundly.


	5. Howls in the Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Winter is here and things are dangerous.

In the beginning of winter things weren't so bad. They had a few berries and the catcoons and spiders left enough of their meat to make meals and feed to the birds. A gobbler had gotten into their garden and eaten the berries after, but it didn't seem to bother them any. They still had the meat and the eggs to hold them over.

After many weeks however the catcoons went into hibernation, just as the bees had in late autumn. The neighboring beefalo would get into fights with spiders and if they were lucky they could slip in and get the meat and wool without being noticed by either mob. Some days it was too dangerous to try.

The meat that did go bad was cooked and given to the birds, and they lived off their eggs. The lumberjack had never been more thankful for the presence of the feathered fiends. The birds meant they wouldn't starve.

Even when they had run out of meat Wes and Woodie went out with shovels and dug up blue mushrooms. And then they ate more and found comfort in full bellies because they would not starve this winter.

It wasn't until the dead of winter that they experienced any bit of problems. First their thermal stones broke, limiting the distance which they could travel for blue caps. Wes worked around this by making rabbit traps, some to set over burrows, others to set around spider dens nearby. Their meals became limited to morsels and eggs.

The cold was beginning to weigh on them. Their bed rolls were breaking down, letting in just a little too much cold, which kept them awake in the night. Their catcoon caps were slowly starting to wear at the seams. They were using more firewood to stay warm these days.

Woodie's fear the other might starve was beginning to grow, turning his gut sour. He couldn't stand to be alone again, not now that he had Wes. Someone to help him, to rest a reassuring hand on his shoulder when needed, someone to make fighting a little less lonely. Sure Woodie had Lucy, but she could only offer him conversation and help in the forest. She couldn't do all Wes had done. The fear was a building tension in his neck and shoulders.

Often times Woodie would offer more of his meal to Wes, he didn't need to eat as often as the other, who seemed to only lose more and more weight even if he was eating both meals. He was so skinny, frighteningly so.

When Wes wasn't checking his traps or cooking he stayed huddled in his sleep bag, the bunny fur and hatch pulled tightly over him and he slept closer to the fire in these days. Woodie could see the shifting of Wes rubbing his hands together. Every now and again he'd duck his head under the blanket to warm his face and blow hot air from his lungs against his frozen fingers.

Whenever Woodie would look terribly worried at Wes the mime would offer a reassuring smile to him, and Woodie would force a smile back. Things weren't exactly awful, but they could certainly be better.

When Wes would take naps during the day to escape the cold for the little while sleep offered, Woodie would speak with Lucy. Her grating voice was a welcomed sound, but their conversations seemed darker these days.

"I'm scared."

_'I know.'_

"I don't wanna lose him."

_'You won't.'_

"He's gonna starve."

_'Not while the spiders keep coming. He's going to make it, and so are you.'_

With her words to calm him Woodie could rest for a time. So he relaxed and he watched Wes. He watched his chest go up and down and this brought him peace and he was able to sleep.

Darkness. Firelight. Darkness. Firelight.

Woodie blinked his eyes slowly open as something roused him from his sleep. Wes' hand rested on his chest and the mimes eyes were glued to the north west woods. A low howl in the distance sent chills through Woodie's spine. His hands and legs felt numb but he was wide awake and quickly removing himself from his sleeping bag.

He retrieved sticks and grass quickly and wrapped the grass tuft about the top of the stick. He handed one torch to Wes and kept one for himself. They both lit them on the fire and Woodie opened the front gate, stepping out and walking further into the darkness. He squinted into it trying to make something of it and holding his torch out for light.

A low growling rumbled in the chest of a beast not a few yards away. Woodie felt his stomach drop. For a moment he felt frozen, staring into the darkness. It was his instincts that kicked in, making him turn and bolt from the animal who charged him. The many howls of the hound pack could be heard in close pursuit.

"WES RUN!" Woodie screamed as he bolted by the other, taking off toward the swamp lands to the east.

He had expected Wes to follow, to run with him. Looking back he found out otherwise. Wes stood there trembling while the hounds chewed at the stone walls of the Avian Room. Then the sound of one shattering rang out over the growls and Wes took off out the front door and to the south west woods.

Woodie could feel his heart sink. Turning quickly around he armed himself with Lucy and swung hard at the beast who was tailing him. The sharp of her head connected with it's maw and the beast yelped before grounding itself and bounding at him again. He pulled back and swung her like a baseball bat, the force of the blow cleaving the hounds head in half.

Woodie's body was now on auto pilot, and he hadn't even registered what he had done to the monster before bolting off into the woods where he'd seen Wes run. He could hear the hounds retreating to the northwest and he stopped running a moment as not to make a sounds, lest they turn around to hunt him.

Once their sound was no longer in ear range he cupped his hands over his mouth to call out.

"WES," he cried. "WES I'M OVER HERE! COME ON OUT! FOLLOW MY VOICE!"

There was nothing but silence.

* * *

 

The hound stared Wes down, its maw slobbering a foamy froth onto the forest floor. Wes trembled at the sight of it prowling closer, as though he were a rabbit that might bolt if he moved to quickly. He was going to die. He was going to die here tonight. He'd have to start all over. He'd be alone again.

Tears formed in his eyes at what death truly meant this time. It meant losing more than he'd ever had before, and he just couldn't do it. He had run as far as his legs would carry him, and Woodie was nowhere to help him out of this mess.

He cupped his face in his hands and wept.

It was a voice calling through the woods that stopped his cries mid heave. He lifted his head quickly listening again and he heard it. His name being called through the trees. The hound before him paused, turning in the direction of the sound.

He couldn't bolt, he couldn't run. The hound would tackle him. Heaven knew he couldn't talk. He couldn't call out and let the other know he was in trouble.

He had an idea.

While the hound was still turned to the noise Woodie was causing he fumbled in his pocket. He sighed with delight, having found his balloons and he brought one to his lips. He breathed three large and hard breaths into it to round it out and he held it close to himself giving it a hard squeeze.

The latex formed to his hands until under the pressure it gave out a large pop that echoed through the woods. The hound turned on him again, growling and barking, but Wes already had the second balloon readied and he inflated it quickly giving it another hard squeeze. He was rewarded with another loud burst!

The beast crouched low, bristled, bared its teeth and Wes closed his eyes to brace himself. His face scrunched tightly and he sinked slowly to the ground against the tree he was pressed to.

Then he heard a sick cracking sound, a wet noise. The air was filled with the smell of copper and his eyes opened wide to see Woodie above the monster. He swung over and over, Lucy's head breaking through the skull of the animal again and again till a jammy mess of brains and meat was all that remained. And Woodie didn't stop until there was nothing left of the creatures face and he knew it wouldn't get back up.

His breath was heavy and he looked at Wes with worried eyes. Wes trembled, his body shaken, and he brought himself to stand on quaking legs. Woodie stepped over the bloody pile that moments earlier had been a hound, and Wes pushed off of the tree trunk, his arms opening wide and he stumbled quickly to Woodie. He held tight to him and Woodie wrapped his arms about him, holding him close and running his hands through his hair over and over.

Wes was hyper sensitive to it all. He could smell the scent of wood chips on Woodie, could feel how warm he was, how strong his arms were, how strong his chest was. He could hear his worried breaths and his racing heart beat and he hugged close to try an comfort him.

Only once Woodie was certain Wes was unharmed did they start back to their camp. They moved quickly, the cold air threatening to take them if they stayed in it too long. But comfort came to them for a moment when their torches held out until the sun was peaking over the horizon and they smiled to each other with hope in their eyes.


	6. Home is Where the Heart is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nowhere to go.

Hope is a fragile thing. It does not take much to crush it. Woodie and Wes were not unfamiliar with disappointment. One came to expect such a thing in a world like this. It was only because they had found each other that they remained so hopeful. But even together they could not prepare for the sight that lay before them back at camp. Their hearts sank. 

The walls had been destroyed, all except the back wall and two pillars that supported the door. All of Wes' hard work had been undone. A few chests had been gnawed open, the contents inside either gone or too torn to make use of them. Their bed rolls had been shredded beyond use and their fire pit entirely dismantled. 

Woodie stared on in disbelief at the destruction. Wes had his eyes on something else. 

His Avian room had been the first to be broken into, the hounds had torn into the cages, leaving nothing but blood and feathers for the mime to find. Wes' lip quivered and silent tears formed in his eyes. His face scrunched grossly and his teeth grit while he tried to choke back the sobs. 

One cage remained unbroken. It was laying on its side and inside was a red bird, chirping and throwing a fit. The first bird Wes had captured, whose cage was marked with a plaque labeled Winona. Wes stepped closer and she quieted. He opened her cage and reached in, she perched on his finger and he brought her to sit on his shoulder. Her feathers had been clipped and she was thus flightless, and she sat on Wes' shoulder quietly. 

He moved to his bag, stored away in the back corner of the house, and he retrieved birdseed to feed her. She ate eagerly.

When Woodie was finally able to pry his eyes away from the damage he looked to Wes, to find that the other was looking at him with the same worry in his eyes. Woodie moved to the fire pit, reconstructed it as best he could, and began to throw the boards from the destroyed chests into it. He struck flint to light it up and motioned for Wes to join him by the fire.

The two of them sat in silence, watching the flames and letting their bodies warm. Wes obviously wouldn't say anything but Woodie - Woodie just didn't know what to say. There was nothing that could be said to save this situation, and both of them knew they couldn't live in a place close enough to the hound mounds to be torn down. It was too dangerous for them.

"We'll have to pack our bags. Only stuff we need like flint and sticks, lumber too. Medicine. Keep the rest of the room for food we find along the way." 

Wes looked at Woodie and nodded his head in numb understanding. 

After they were warm enough they packed their bags accordingly. Wes picked up the bits of bedroll left and handed Woodie the remains of his. They wrapped them about their shoulders and set off to the north east, being sure not to stray into the swamp as they went. 

Wes looked back and Woodie stopped a moment to turn as well. 

This was the last they would see of their little home. The lumpy stone pillars and quaint wooden door that splintered and hitched awkwardly, and a floor half finished, these were things left to memory now. 

Woodie rested his hand on Wes' shoulder, like Wes had done for him so often, and he turned to continue walking. There was no sense looking back now, it couldn't fix anything. He could hear the soft crunch of snow as Wes followed behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Very short chapter, I'm sorry, but the following events would fit better in a chapter all their own.)


	7. Leave Hope Behind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There is only darkness down this tunnel, and the light seems lost to our protagonists.

Bitter winds bit at their cheeks and made their noses sting. The tips of their ears turned quickly red at the chill in the air. The cold air made their lungs burn with every breath and threatened to freeze the moisture of their eyeballs, which prompted them to blink more often. And each night they built a fire and sat close together to keep their warmth as well they could. 

Woodie watched as a slow evolution took place in Wes. His once plump and glistening lips were now dry and cracking, red blood surfaced in several creases of them before it dried and turned black. His long eyelashes were frosty with ice crystals that no amount of rubbing seemed to rid them of. Day in and day out Woodie could see the changes in Wes, even beyond the makeup he could make out a bluish hue taking the mime's skin. 

Woodie was becoming sick to his stomach. Even Lucy seemed to keep silenced, having nothing to say to make Woodie feel better. The woodsman felt as though the ol' girl could sense the inevitable upon them. 

The deeper into the woods they traveled the more scarce food became. The hunger pains started in Wes long before Woodie. The grumbling of his stomach could be heard even over the gusts of wind at times and his walking slowed. He had packed birdseed for Winona and now and again if Woodie were sly enough to turn an eye at the right time he could catch Wes eating some of it himself. It was a desperate and futile attempt to give himself enough strength to maybe, just maybe, make it. 

Woodie's heart was growing heavy with worry. It hurt worse even than the pangs of hunger that curled his stomach and made his once determined foot steps turn to tired shuffling. Wes was likely going to die out here if Woodie didn't find food soon. Wes was going to die cold, and frozen, and hungry. A painful death not suitable for someone as kind as him. It would be all Woodie's fault. He'd be to blame. If he had of chosen another direction there might have been food. 

But he hadn't and it was too late now to turn back. 

In the end the birdseed had finally been expended and four days after this Winona was becoming irate. She chirped and screamed and pecked at Wes' shoulder with angry demand to be fed. Wes only stared blankly ahead of himself, knowing he could not offer her anything more. There was nothing more to give. 

They settled down and lit another fire in the night, and Winona continued her crying. And Wes, desperate for food, reached his hand about her and held her tight. Woodie looked at him with concerned knowing and his brow crinkled. Wes' pale gray eyes now lacked the shimmering signs of life they had when Woodie had first met their gaze, and were now dull. And the look filling those pale silver orbs was one of resolution which prompted Woodie to turn his head away respectfully.

There were the sound of tiny bones being broken and the bird's cries were silenced. Only then did Woodie let himself look at Wes again and see the tears streaming down the mimes face and freezing to his cheeks. Wes removed his backpack and produced from it his straight razor which he used to cut the animal open and begin preparing it to be eaten. 

Once it was done and cleaned as well as he could make it he cooked every part of it that could be cooked and ate. While the meal was very small and less filling than what Woodie would have hoped for the other, Wes seemed calmed for the time. Closing his eyes he lay on Woodie's shoulder and cried silently till he was asleep. 

Woodie looked down to his companion, pained by what the other had just had to do, but nonetheless moved by the desire in the smaller to survive. 

In the following week Wes lay by the fire, his body wrapped in the scraps of rabbit fur and grass, and his heart heavy with the sin he'd committed. He did not move to eat, as there was nothing left to eat, but should Woodie melt snow over the fire there was then a warm drink to keep his hands from being numb and at least delay the pangs of hunger for an hour or so. 

Woodie, desperate for the other to survive, had tried feeding Wes tree bark, pushing it against his lips and prompting him to eat. He never did. Wes would only open his eyes and look up long enough to see Woodie before closing them again and sighing through his nose. 

Neither was sure what would take them first, the cold or the hunger. Woodie placed his guess that Wes would die of starvation shortly - sometime within the following days, and hopefully in the man's sleep where it wouldn't hurt so badly - and he counted on the cold to end him then after. 

Hope was lost. 

And then, by some miracle as it were, the sun came out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooh child things are gonna get easier,  
> Ooh child, things'll get brighter.
> 
> ~Five Stairsteps


	8. Here Comes the sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spring is here.

Though the air still bit at them with a determination to snuff them out the snow had melted and mushroom caps could be seen, their little tops poking out of the ground. Carrots that had not gone bad, having been frozen through the winter poked their little green stems out as though to say 'all you can eat, over here, we're over here.' And Wes and Woodie scurried frantically digging up blue caps and collecting carrots.

Wes, though he moved clumsily and slowly for he was weak after the harshness of winter, seemed to be filled with a renewal of life. He shuffled like a young deer just learning how to walk, stumbling here and there but trying to keep up with Woodie. He would search only yards away from the man, gathering food for himself.

Once their pockets were full they sat down and started a fire, cooking the food they had found and eating till they were full. Both were contented and they rested against each other for the extra warmth, smiles evident on their faces. Things were going to start looking up.

Spring was here.

It was Wes who had discovered the ponds and within a week the frogs were coming out of hibernation and bounding about, and the catcoons were crawling out of their dens to hunt them for food. Woodie an Wes retrieved frog legs and large meats and ate in gracious amounts.

By the third week the air had warmed significantly and they were able to abandon their scraps of grass and rabbit fur. By the afternoon the ponds were warmed by the sun and the frogs gone to bed, and for the first time since autumn Wes and Woodie were able to bathe themselves.

Wes and Woodie stripped themselves and slipped into the ponds to wash away the dirt of the previous months. They scrubbed away the blood caked on their cracked fingers and lips and the dirt on their bodies. And they washed away the grime and much, and the smell of their bodies, and they felt clean.

And while Woodie focused on cleaning himself Wes would let his eyes stray to the other, looking him up and down. The sight of muscle and red fur all over the man a pleasant one to him, and he bit his lower lip and turned away before he could be caught.

After their bath they quickly scrubbed their clothes clean and then started a fire to dry themselves and the garments. They rested their rabbit furs across their laps to cover themselves and sat watching the fire and eating some frog legs.

Woodie was unsure why precisely, unsure of what exactly came over him to convince him to do such a thing, but his eyes drifted to Wes and he chanced a glance at him. Wes was very thin these days, his ribs visible, and his wrists barley larger than Lucy's handle. The tendons in his neck stuck out from lack of nutrients over the winter, and his collarbone poked sharply upward.

Woodie turned his sights to the fire, filled with some kind of inexplicable guilt.

As the night went on Wes' slumped sideways, his head falling to Woodie's lap. Reflexively the lumberjack checked the mimes pulse, feeling it stronger than it had been for a long time. And he brushed his hand through Wes' hair, surprisingly soft as ever. And after a while Woodie found himself drifting to sleep as well.

* * *

 

_"Are you sure it's him?"_

**"Certain it is small friend. Even all scrappy looking he does not fool Wolfgang."**

_"So this is Wes then? Hnn, I don't know what I was expecting, but it wasn't this."_

The sound of voices made Woodie stir. Was he dreaming? He had to be. There was no one here but he and Wes. But the moment his eyes opened he was greeted by two shadowed figures loomed over them.

"WES!"

Woodie pulled the mime up quickly, shoving him behind him and arming himself with Lucy. He gripped his rabbit pelts about his waist to keep himself covered while he stood on guard. Wes seemed to stumble about, tugging his rabbit furs closed and looking up in confusion, having been suddenly roused from his deep sleep.

**"Ohoho! Small man with ax thinks he is match for Mighty Wolfgang. You make me laugh little red man."**

Woodie sneered at the mockery and was ready to demand explanation, but his train of thought was interrupted when Wes pushed his arm down and rushed forward to throw himself into the large mans arms.

**"Ahaha! It is good to see you too, small friend. You have not been eating well, Wolfgang can see and feel your bones. Forgive him for not hugging harder, but you would snap, like small twig."**

The lumberjack only stared in confusion.

 _"Alright buddy, put the ax away, no need to get hotheaded. We're friendly,"_ the woman said, dusting her skirt and stirring their fire with her own torch.

Woodie turned his attention away from her again to see Wes bouncing rather excitedly and hanging off the muscular man's arm. Wolfgang is what he called himself, right?

"Who are you people? And how do you know Wes?" Woodie hissed through his teeth.

 _'Jealous,'_   he heard Lucy whisper.

 _"Well, I'm Willow,"_ The woman started. _"And this big guy here is Wolfgang. He hasn't stopped talking about your little friend Wes there since we met."_

**"Wolfgang and Wes once in circus together. Best friends the two of us."**

Wes nodded his head in agreement.

Woodie was not sure what to think. Other than Wes these were the first two people he'd seen since his arrival. And Wes had said he had not seen anyone else since he came either. This meant of course that he must be very excited to see anyone else, much less a familiar face.

_'Jealous.'_

"So where did you all come from, anyway?"

_"We got stuck out in the dark after some clockwork chased us a ways, that's when we found your fire."_

**"Wolfgang would have been left to the dark times if not for your flame and Willow's torch."**

"Uh, right, but where did you COME from."

_"Wickerbottom's Hideaway isn't far from here, we came from that direction."_

Woodie had no clue what that was, but he hand't any time to ask before 'Wolfguy' was speaking again.

**"The sun will be in the sky soon. Wolfgang and Willow will show you back to sanctuary."**

So it was a safe haven.

"Are there others?"

_"Yeah, we'll introduce you to everyone once we get there. You are coming right?"_

Woodie looked at Wes who nodded his head and then back at the other two and nodded his head as well.

In the morning they gathered what little they had and followed the their two new additions back to their encampment.


	9. A Place to Call Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wes and Woodie meet the residents of Wickerbottom's Hideaway.

Wickerbottom's Hideaway as it turned out, was a large encampment behind a stone wall. This stone wall was unlike the one that Woodie and Wes had hidden themselves behind as it towered over even Wolfgang, and around the perimeter was a secondary caution of large Wooden Stakes in the ground. The entire encampment was run by none other than a lady by the name of Wanita Wickerbottom. 

Wanita Wickerbottom was a strict looking woman, but one with a kind heart. She had began building the structures around the camp around two years prior, so she guesstimated. She had built it for herself and her grandson but when the others came they helped her expand it to house all of them. 

"We built it around a large radius," she had told Woodie. "We wanted it to be large enough for more people should anyone else stumble upon it." 

She adjusted her glasses and breathed through her sharp little nose before walking onward. 

"And I'm glad we did, because now you and your friend Wes have come." 

And she rested a hand on Woodie's shoulder with a smile. 

After Woodie and Wes had been introduced to everyone they had been shown to Ms. Wickerbottom's hut. They were given an apology that no quarters were ready for them yet, and allowed to sleep in her hut for the time being. 

Ms. Wickerbottom herself would stay in the children's quarters for the time which was occupied by three children. 

The first was Webber who was introduced as Wickerbottom's grandson. He was an interesting little chap with what appeared to be the body of a spider wrapped around him. The exact events that occurred to result in his odd appearance were not ones that Wes would ask about (for Wes never spoke), as well as ones that Woodie did not care to find out (for he found the child slightly unnerving). 

The second was a blonde girl by the name of Wendy, who never quite seemed to smile. She was distant, and quiet, and when she did speak nothing happy ever seemed to come out of her mouth. Wes did not inquire about her either, and frankly Woodie also found her slightly unnerving. 

The last was a girl of approximately fifteen whose name was Wigifrid. She was a talkative one who believed herself - for whatever reason - to be a valkyrie. From her they learned that she and Wendy had traveled with Willow and Wolfgang when they happened upon Wickerbottom's Hideaway. She was not a child of bad nature, but she was quite hyper, and Woodie found her rather annoying, while Wes seemed more fascinated by her talkativeness and nodded his head in time with her stories. 

Wes and Woodie were offered hot baths and they took them gratefully before meeting in their temporary lodging to get some well deserved rest. 

The bed in the room was stuffed with something rather soft. The material holding it together was bunnyfluff which made it very plush and comfortable to the touch. The sheets were made of beefalo wool and the entire bed was made neatly. Woodie sat upon it and looked over to Wes who was sitting on a seat cushioned by more bunnyfluff and redoing his makeup, which had been a complete mess all winter. 

This was the first time Woodie had ever really seen the other without makeup and he was shocked to find that Wes had wrinkles. They were not very deep but they were still there. Little crows feet near his eyes and laugh lines near his mouth. And Woodie was, for whatever reason, quite boggled to think that Wes might actually be older than what he'd first thought, and by quite a fair amount. 

Even if he were to ask Wes about his age he doubted he would be given a reasonable answer, since Wes was incapable of speaking outright. In the end Woodie let the question remain lost in thought and when Wes was done with his makeup he looked up to the lumberjack. 

Woodie cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. 

"There's only one bed," he stated, brushing his palm against the soft plush fur. "If you wanna take it I can sleep on the floor." 

Wes wasted no time in shaking his head. He stood, dusted his thighs and walked closer to the bed. He looked to Woodie a moment, wordless as ever, and offered a soft smile. His hands moved to grip the bottom of his shirt and he pulled it up and over his head, letting it fall onto the ground. 

Woodie felt his cheeks burning while he looked at Wes. His temperature was rising again and his ears stung, a sweat had broken out on the back of his neck. He could still see Wes' ribs, and his sharp collarbone, but something about Wes -just Wes- made his temperature rise through the roof and he was not at all certain as to why. 

Lucy, who lay over a wooden chair in the room, was for once silent. 

Wes seemed rather aware that the other had been looking at him, and he smirked cockily, his eyes lidded and slipped into the bed and under the covers. Woodie cleared his throat and nodded his head. 

"Right, uh... Goodnight then." 

Woodie reached over, blew out the candle on the nightstand, rolled in the opposite direction of Wes, and tried to get some sleep. 

The softness of the covers and bed made sleeping fairly easy.


	10. Jealousy Does Not Become You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jealous Woodie is Jealous.

Much to Woodie's silent delight Wes had put on a fair amount of weight as the weeks passed. Though he was still scrawny - his arms and legs still noodles and his face still slim and almond shaped - his collarbone now fell into a soft and elegant slope, rather than pushing sharply from his skin. His ribs could not be seen anymore, the skin that covered them pale and smooth. He had a glow to his eyes once more and his lips were plump and glistening as they had been the night that he and Woodie had first met in the woods.

The two of them were still sharing a bed in Wickerbottom's cabin for the time being, while Wolfgang worked on building one that would then be assigned to Wes and Woodie. During the day Woodie would help him and listen to the other talk about his days in the circus, and his adventures since he'd been stuck here, and how he'd come to travel with Willow. And woodie would take an odd pleasure he couldn't explain in Watching Wes work in his own way around the camp.

Wes spent his days mending their clothes and helping Willow gather food and cook. He helped Ms.Wickerbottom sew clothes to be stored away for the coming winter. Ms.Wickerbottom held lectures for the children - believing they should not fall behind on their studies lest they become nothing more than uncivilized - and after the children would come to Wes for entertainment. Wes willingly mimed impressions and performed cartwheels and other circus tricks. He painted their faces and made them balloon animals.

A wooden gate at the back of the town walls led to an outdoor foyer, inside was a pond and after the frogs had hidden away in the afternoon Wes would go out and fish to fill his time. A time or two Woodie had joined him, and the two sat exchanging glances. His soft lips would always pull into the smile and Woodie remembered how before the winter he had decided they were rather kissable. But a fever always broke out when he thought about it and he quickly averted his eyes, only to catch Wes miming a giggle from the corner of them.

 _'Boy, you sure do got it bad,'_ Lucy teased. Woodie had no clue what she was talking about.

All in all things were looking up. Woodie found himself happy that Wes was happy, and safe, and well fed. Wes' comfort brought comfort to him. There was however one thing that was beginning to grate on his nerves.

It was an odd thing, so he thought, to be so irritated by such a minor occurrence. When Wes was not playing with the children, or working, or fishing, he was spending a lot of time with Wolfgang. This was not so unusual, because Wolfgang was his friend, and they had been friends long before Woodie had ever known Wes. But his gut burned and curled, and his brow furrowed, and he was filled with a guilt for having such reactions.

 _'Jealous,'_ he heard Lucy whisper.

And so maybe he was.

Through autumn, winter, and early spring it had been just Woodie and Wes. Wes had doted on him. Wes had taken care of everything in the house and done the cooking. He had offered Woodie comfort, he had spent every moment he wasn't working with Woodie. Now, Woodie had to share the mime's attention with someone else.

He felt tension in his brow when the large man would pick the small Wes up and lift him onto his shoulders. He felt fire in his gut when Wes would hang off of him, and smile, and follow him about.

If this is what jealousy felt like then YES, Woodie was jealous. And he felt angry enough to own it.

 _'Jealous,'_ Lucy had whispered to him again once they were alone.

Woodie only sighed and whispered back a confirming, " Yeah."

* * *

  
The sun was beating down rather hot that day and with Woodie's growing envy it only seemed hotter. His body was broken in a heavy sweat while he helped Wolfgang raise the walls of the cabin. He wiped his forehead with his forearm and took a moment to rest his hands on his hip and sigh. A canteen that had been sewn together by Wes and made of animal hide hung at Woodie's waist and he uncapped it to drink eagerly from it.

Wolfgang had taken it upon himself to regale Woodie with a memory of the circus and a hot day when he and Wes had gone to the neighboring lake to swim. Woodie could feel his anger boiling again and he cleared his throat to prompt the other to shut his mouth.

**"Yes?"**

"What exactly are you to Wes anyway?"

The question had more bite to it than Woodie had meant it to. He bit the side of his tongue with his molars as a reminder to watch his tone better next time.

**"Wolfgang and Wes are friends, I have told you this."**

The answer isn't good enough. Friends. Friends had so many meanings and Woodie was unsure of how far Wolfgang and Wes' relationship went. Relationship. His hand tightened around Lucy with the tension that wound up the muscles in his neck.

"You seem awful close to Wes, eh?"

**"Ohoho! Best friends, then."**

"Anything more?"

There was a heavy silence between them for a time. The two staring at each other. Woodie was nearly burning holes into Wolfgang with his glaring, Wolfgang simply seemed shocked at the implications of the question.

 **"No,"** he finally replied. **"We are only friends. We have never been intimate."**

"Have you ever wanted to?"

_'Woodie you're getting to ambitious with your questions, aren't you?'_

"Shh."

There was another pause and then the man chuckled heartily and cupped his belly. He sighed and wiped a tear away from his eye from his fit of chuckling.

**"Woodsman has nothing to fear! You are jealous, no?"**

Woodie looked away with red cheeked shame.

**"It is okay, Wolfgang has wife, Willow. No need to worry about your mime being stolen."**

"Willow is your wife?"

This information was new.

**"In a way, there is no priest to marry us, but we are as you might say 'an item'."**

Woodie felt sort of dumb now, stupid, and rude for having assumed such things about Wes and Wolfgang.

**"Besides, even if Wolfgang did have feelings for small friend, he would not try to romance another man's lover."**

"LOVER!?"

Woodie was flustered! What sort of accusation was this? It weren't as though he and Wes were intimate!

**"When we find you in the woods, you were both in nothing but your rabbit skins. You can not pull the wool - or in this case, rabbit fluff- over Wolfgang's eyes."**

"But we're not..."

**"No? Hmmn."**

He could hear the sharp hum of Lucy laughing at him and he gripped her a little tighter in warning. He could hardly believe this conversation.

"I've never even considered somethin' like a relationship or anythin' like that."

**"No? Well, you might want to change your mind, lumber man. Small friend is quite infatuated with you."**

"Oh?"

Wolfgang only raised his brow in response and smirked. Woodie cleared his throat and looked back to their work. He shuffled over to it to begin laboring once again.

"So, you and Willow?"

 **"I like her fiery personality."**  

* * *

 

When dark came Wes and Woodie entered their temporary cabin and Wes removed his shirt as usual to slide into bed. Woodie lay next to him after he'd blown the candle out. He could hear the easy breathing from Wes even long after sleep had come to him. And Woodie rolled to face him, watched him, took in the sight of him in the glow of the firelight that seeped through the cracks in the door.

Wrapping his arms gently -ever so gently as not to wake him- about the mime. He scooted close, feeling the cool skin of Wes' back against his chest. He buried his nose into Wes hair and closed his eyes.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Three.

Sleep.


	11. All's Unwell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A familiar stranger comes to the gates.

Dawn broke like any other to the sound of Catcoons meowling as they crawled out of their burrows and the din of bees buzzing around the main yard, and the peacefulness was abruptly disrupted by the sound of yelling from the front gate. This was what roused Woodie from his sleep and alerted him to the realization that Wes was not next to him as he had been expecting.

There was a moment of grogginess before panic settled into his chest and stomach. He threw the beefalo covers from himself and grabbed his plaid shirt, buttoning it up as best he could manage with one hand while the other reached out to grab Lucy.

As he rushed to the gate he could make out the forms of Willow, Wolfgang, Wickerbottom, and the children. Wolfgang had his arms about Wes, holding him tightly while Wes kicked and flailed, teeth gritted and fists -gloves off- balled up. His body twisted this way and that while he tried to pry free of Wolfgang's grip.

Two new faces were among them. A man in a tattered red vest, with hair that reminded Woodie of a cat, and a bloody patch over his left eye. This man was kneeling with his arms around Webber and a scowl on his face.

The second man was in a torn up suit and was on his backside on the ground, a hand print clearly marked across his face that one could guess -by the look of things- was Wes'. This man was rubbing his face and seemingly Dazed from the slap. This man somehow seemed familiar to him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

 **"You must not throw punches, small friend. Even if the man in question is a mere bug who deserves to be squashed,"** Wolfgang said, trying to calm the other. Even still the gruffness of his voice hinted at some shared hostility toward the man.

"No no, by all means. Let him have at him, good sir," the man in the red vest chided. "If he chokes him to death we'll just smash his bones and use them for arrowheads. It is a better use than holding his saggy old muscles up."

Where did Woodie know this man? Why was Wes so hostile? Woodie had never seen Wes act this way before. Whatever this man had done to Wes had hurt him greatly. The thought made his hand tighten around Lucy.

"Say pal, control yourself would you? It was forever ago, right? Let bygones be bygones."

Say Pal.

Say Pal.

Say Pal.

SAY PAL!

Woodie did know this man. He knew this man had promised him something. He knew this man had tricked him. He knew this man was the reason he was trapped in this hellhole! He knew this man had probably done the same to Wes, and he was filled with a blind fury.

In the blink of an eye Lucy was on the ground and Woodie was over Max. His fists connected with the man's jaw over and over in succession. Maxwell's arms lifted to try and block him but it did little against Woodie's assault.

"That is quite enough!"

Wickerbottom latched onto his arm, putting all the weight she had into dragging Woodie off of the fiend. Woodie spat angrily at him even after he'd been tugged away. The librarian panted, worn from the exertion of lugging Woodie away and she adjusted her glasses on her nose before glaring at everyone.

"You should be ashamed of yourselves, fighting like this in front of the children. What example is this setting for them?"

Wes stopped his flailing but he was glaring even still. Woodie was not feeling any sort of guilt for hitting the man. He deserved it! He was the reason Woodie was here, he was likely the reason Wes was here. Hell, he was probably the reason all of them were here, children included. What kind of person did this to children?

"I know that he's wronged us, all of us, but it's no excuse to turn into savages," Wickerbottom stated, dusting her hands on her skirt. "We will work this out like adults, and nothing less. Children, please turn in for now, and don't come out of your cabin until I tell you. The rest of you meet me at the firepit."

And with that she marched off leaving everyone else speechless.

* * *

 

  
It had been settled that Max and his rather stubborn and angry acquaintance would be staying with them. Wes and Woodie's cabin had been promptly finished and two beds put in for them, and they moved all of their belongings in so that Max and his partner could occupy Wickerbottom's cabin until theirs was finished.

The man with the bloody patch over his eye and the cat like hair went by the name of Wilson. He was a scientist who had been down on his luck trying to make a machine that would help him find his son. Max had promised to give him the knowledge to do this, but as always Max hadn't made good on that vow and Wilson had ended up captive to this land just as everyone else had.

Wilson - as coincidence would have it - happened to be cousin to Willow, and the lost son he had been looking for was none other than Webber, who he referred to as 'Winston'.

Wilson had a grudge against Max the likes that could rival even Wes' own, and Woodie was not sure if he found that fitting, or concerning. Either way he knew that Max would be having no easy time now that they were all here. Woodie, admittedly was even joining in on Wilson and Wes' glaring from time to time.

No one could blame them.

In the end the bickering between Max and Wilson proved but one thing; Wes and Woodie's quiet and comfortable lives were now disrupted.


	12. Beauty and the Beast

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Woodie has a terrible secret.

Eventually the bickering between Wilson and Max did dull and tensions slowly began to fade away. Wes still did not like being around Max in the least however, and no one blamed him for it. Woodie had decidedly put aside his grudges as well he could because summer had come and preparation for the winter was beginning, so that by autumn the remaining work would be scarce. Surprisingly Maxwell made a good helping hand with the use of his shadow puppets.

The nature in which their grudges toward Max were put aside when it was brought to light his relation to Wendy, who -unbeknownst to him until recently- happened to be his niece. The knowledge of this had prompted a breakdown from the man that -frankly- no one wanted to talk about, as it had been awkward for everyone, and no one quite knew how to handle it.

All that truly mattered now was that Maxwell -since the information had surfaced- was much easier to tolerate and his cockiness had been humbled.

Life was slowly beginning to seem normal for everyone, and they all coexisted peacefully.

They ate dinner together. They worked together. They helped each other. Every now and then they might bicker together. They shared stories by the campfire. They were like one big family so it seemed.

In the evenings before dusk Woodie and Wes fished in the ponds in the back foyer. Wes gave him sweet smiles and Wolfgang's words would ring in Woodie's ears. He had said that Wes fancied him, hadn't he?

The thought sent heat through him and made his heart swell. For the first time he became fully aware of the feelings he had for Wes. He understood fully now why his palms were sweaty and why he felt hot. Why his heart ached and why his cheeks burned. This was an emotion Woodie had never thought much about because he never thought he'd ever feel it.

This was what people called 'Love'.

The realization was not a frightening one. It was not something that made him run or want to hide. If anything understanding his feelings brought him some kind of comfort. His nervousness only surfaced when he realized he had no clue how to confront the other about such things.

He tried to rest easy. Right then, everything was as it should have been.

Then they heard the howls.

The hounds came in quick succession out of a hole they had dug from the outside of the wall down and up into the main yard. One after the other sprang from it and soon the camp was packed with them. Their jowls gleamed with frothy slobber that spattered on the ground as they charged the residence.

Wolfgang had grabbed up Wigifrid and tossed the redhead over his shoulder, while Wendy was lifted by Willow and the four of them disappeared out of the front gate and into the woods. Wilson and Wickerbottom were running through the camp, calling out for Webber who -along with Max- was nowhere to be found.

Woodie had gripped a mortified Wes by the wrist and dragged him quickly to the front gate. Wes tried to struggle free and run for their cabin. He remembered the damage done to all their materials, the damage done to their home back in the field, if he could save anything for the winter he had to. Woodie only pulled him tighter.

"Leave it! We'll make due, come on they're coming."

This seemed to snap Wes from his hysteria and he nodded his head in quick agreement. Though Wes followed Woodie quickly the lumberjack never let go of his wrist, ensuring that they would not become separated as they had the last time they ran from the vicious mutts.

Woodie ran until they found a large boulder to crouch behind. He lay Lucy over his lap and fumbled quickly to pluck some grass. He looked then to Wes.

"Got any sticks?"

With night moments away he had to build a torch quick. Wes quickly handed him what he had in his pack and Woodie bound the sticks together and quickly wound the grass about them. He patted his pockets and a feeling of dread came over him. It sunk into his stomach and put pressure at the back of his throat. His hairs stood on end and he looked worried to Wes.

"Got any flint?" he choked.

Wes only shook his head.

Without flint he couldn't make a spark. Without a spark they were left without a torch. Without a torch they were left to the dark.

Frantically Woodie began to search around for some flint, anything to get a spark. Without it the shadows would strangle them and tear them to shreds, and the fear was weighing heavy on his shoulders.

Wes gently patted the lumberjack's shoulder and pointed up. Through the clouds the bright full moon shown down on them and Woodie felt dread crash into his gut.

The low sound of growling forced Wes to turn away from Woodie. The sight before him was not unfamiliar. He'd been here before.

He can't run it will charge him. He can't make sudden movements, it will pounce.

He slowly stumbled back expecting to bump into Woodie. He didn't. Wes fell onto his back. There was a panicked realization that Woodie was not there. His eyes fell to the red color of the ax's head and he reached out to take it by the handle.

His stance was awkward and he held the weapon too loosely. He was in some serious trouble when he heard a grating voice in his ears that made him cringe.

_'Whoa! Hey! Hold me a little tighter if you're gonna swing me!'_

He nearly dropped the ax. In all his time he'd thought Woodie had been losing it. But this thing, it really did talk! He was trembling even harder then while he adjusted his grip.

_'Come on! What are you waiting for? Swing me before this guy mauls your face!'_

She sounded panicked but Wes still couldn't move. His eyes stung with tears and his teeth grit. He trembled like a leaf before the beast. He pulled her back with shivering arms and swallowed a deep breath filled his chest. He felt frozen again.

The beast crouched, his fur bristling on his back, his teeth bared. Wes was filled with the fear of those terrible jowls. Terrible painful memories filled him, petrifying him in his spot. He remembered how painful it was. He feared the pain of being torn apart.

He remembered the sight of his arms and legs being ripped from his body while the hound thrashed about before finally sinking its chops into his neck and ending the pain. And those memories are what kept him mortified with the inability to move.

There was a low wailing sound and over the rock above Wes bounded a large and hairy figure. In shock Wes' hands gave, dropping Lucy into the dirt. He covered his mouth watching in fear as the hound bounded at the creature and sank its teeth deep into the monsters arm. The monster cried out and lowered it's head.

Sharp front incisors cut harshly into the back of the hounds neck prompting loud distress call from the mutt. With a thrash of the monsters head the hounds neck snapped and it became limp in the beasts maw. The teeth pulled from its nape with a sick wet sound and the canid fell with a thud into the dirt.

A swipe of the creatures long flat tail sent the carcass flying yards away and the monster turned then on Wes.

Wes held his breath and his instincts took him prompting him to grip Lucy once more. He lifted her above his head to swing at the beast but Lucy seemed to -somehow- eject herself from his grip with a cry.

_'DON'T! THAT'S WOODIE!'_

Wes stared dumbfounded at the ax a moment and the words didn't quite seem to settle into his brain. Wide eyed he looked back at the monster and his heart gave a sickened throb.

He looked at the gap in the two front teeth, the green eyes beyond the heavy fur of the monsters brow, and the curl on the creatures upper lip - still covered with the hounds blood and resembling a mustache. The red colour of the fur made his heart sink and he did indeed recognize this horror as Woodie.

He breathed hard with fear but the monster - Woodie - never turned on him. He simply stood and stared with sad green eyes that peered out from behind a thick red brow of fur. Wes slowly approached, his hand shaking as he carressed the jaw of the beast. There was silence and the night seemed stilled.

A cry in the distance from what sounded to be Willow informed the surrounding survivors that the hounds had retreated. At the sound of her call Woodie startled, turned away and bound off into the forest and away from Wes.

* * *

 

Woodie woke to a cool and wet rag on his head and a pain shooting through his arm. His vision was foggy at first and it took him a moment to see that the figure sitting over him was none other than Wes. Woodie felt fur beneath his hand and knew that he was in his own bed and this relaxed him.

He breathed deeply and let his head lull to the side so he could look at Wes who seemed not to smile or react much. He only blinked and pulled the rag away to dip it again before running it down Woodie's bare chest.

Woodie cleared his throat and Wes halted, looking up at the woodsman with those big silver eyes. Woodie propped onto his arm, hissing at the pain that shot through it when he tried to sit up. The mime placed his hand behind Woodie and guided him up till he could throw his legs over the side of the bed and sit properly.

It was then that Woodie realized he was without clothes and he pulled the beefalo blankets over his lap to cover himself. Wes only dipped the wrag again and gently patted the arm that Woodie was feeling the sharp surges in. He looked at it, seeing the stitches puckering out of a large bite.

The night came back to him, albeit hazy and he looked down at his lap, unable to bring himself to look his companion in the eyes.

"Did I hurt yah?" he shifted his eyes up only enough to see Wes shake his head.

Woodie felt his heart clench and his brow scrunched. He felt like he was going to choke. Wes had seen him like that. Wes knew what he was. It was likely he was afraid of him, or at the very least found him to be nothing more than a disgusting monster. The thought curled his stomach. He wanted to vomit.

"I'm only gonna be a burdon to you. You know that, eh? You shoulda just left me out there tah die."

"I can't do zat."

Woodies eyes widened and he lifted his head quickly in shock to look at Wes. The words and thick French accent were something shocking entirely. The mime only stared back with a solemn expression.

"You can talk?"

Wes nodded his head.

"Does anyone else know?"

He shook his head.

A question formed on Woodie's lips and he looked down at his lap again while Wes tended to a few more abrasions on his body.

"Not even Wolfgang?" he choked out. His jealousy was surfacing again.

There was a pause as Wes stopped his cleaning again and he looked up to Woodie with those now very serious gray orbs.

"Not even Wolfgang."

Not another word was said for a time but Wes finished cleaning and bandaging Woodie, who sat in ashamed silence while the other mended his wounds. And once he was done Woodie found it in him to speak again.

"You didn't have to do all this."

Wes turned on him, a rather angry furrow upon his brow and he knelt before Woodie with a determined expression upon his features.

"You **scared** me, Monsieur! You scared me and I sought you were going to die. And I do not sink I can bare to lose you."

Woodie stared dumbfounded.

Woodie stared dumbfounded and the two sat in complete silence then, unmoving.

A small ungloved hand reached up to gently run nails through Woodie's beard. His breath hitched in his throat. Wes moved slowly from his crouched stance.

His lips were soft and they moved slowly. Warm plump lips. And they pressed to Woodie's own and he nearly pulled away if not for Wes hand at the back of his head holding him in place. Finally Woodie's brain caught up with the situation and his hands caressed full hips.

His lips pressed back into Wes' kiss and he hummed softly into it. Wes hands roamed his chest and prompted him to lay back on the bed.

Breathing became heavy.

Clothes were lost to the floor.

The night was hot.

The morning was promising.


	13. Beyond the Trees

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Official?

The hound hole had been filled and cobblestone had been placed around the yard and foyers so that the hounds could not burrow their way back into the camp. Precautions had been taken to unsure that another mishap of the same nature would not happen again. Life resumed as it should and the peace was brought back to the residence of Wickerbottom's Hideaway.

Every morning Woodie awoke to a bare Wes huddled against him, the sweet smell of his body -bathed with honey soap- filling his senses. And each morning they would kiss before dressing and leaving the warmth of their bed to start their work.

Wickerbottom had assigned Wes to the task of building an avian room and he accepted eagerly. The room was lined with more cages and colours of bird than Woodie had ever seen. And in the evenings when they returned home from work they were greeted by the soft mewing of a kittykit from Wickerbottom's breeding project.

Therapy animals, she had called them. And they had been bred to bring comfort to the residence, all of which experienced anxiety of varying varieties. And it was true that Wes seemed comforted by the animals soft purr and Woodie found the plush fur of its body soothing to stroke.

Between caring for the birds and Zoro their Kittykit, Wes seemed pleasantly fulfilled. The afternoons were still a time to fish and Woodie and Wes would bring the fish home for the kit to eat.

They stored away what wasn't eaten in a freezebox that Wilson had invented, so that they might still be able to feed their sweet pet in the winter.

Each cabin was also now fitted with a 'crockpot' as Wilson called it, which made cooking a dream, and much less of a task. And if Zoro were particularly good he'd be treated to fish sticks made with the invention. The kittykit purred and rubbed on the legs of anyone who offered him such a treat.

Autumn came and Woodie and Wolfgang went out to herd beefalo which were tamed and broken to be ridden, which made traveling less of a pain and far quicker than it ever had been before.

Wilson had discovered a strange creature who he dubbed 'Chester' and the beast acted much as a dog. They had come to find him good for storage which made their trips into the woods much easier, since he tailed behind anyone who had an eye bone and carried what they could not.

At the end of autumn the snow came and covered the ground and the beefalo became ornery in their mating season, and the residence were left to walk on foot to their destinations, which -as long as their thermal stones were good and warm, and their bodies bundled up tightly- they did not mind.

Wes - who had slept bare since the night of the hound attack - now slept bundled in one of Woodie's plaid shirts for warmth, though he left the chest of it open in invitation to Woodie, who was indeed weak to the charms of the little seducer.

Come mid Winter it was time to gather more firewood and Max, Woodie, and Wolfgang made the trek through the forest to gather more wood, the first of which Max used to build a fire so their thermal stones stayed heated and their bodies stayed warm.

"So, you are certain about this then?" he asked Woodie, who looked up from the tree he and Lucy were hacking into.

"Never been more certain of anything in my life," he called back.

Max warmed his hands over the fire while two of his shadows swung axes in repetition against trees.

 **"It is good move on woodsman's part, no?"** Wolfgang joined the conversation.

"Well I never said it was a bad move, but why ask me?" Max adjusted his catcoon fur cap before crossing his arms.

"Well you were the king, weren't yah?" Woodie inquired. "Technically speakin' you're the most eligible to make a wedding official."

"Have you talked to Wes about this?" Maxwell asked, his brow quirked. "In case you've missed it the man is unreasonably hostile toward me."

 **"No one blames him,"** Wolfgang grunted, and Max shot the man a glare to which Wolfgang shrugged his shoulders and continued his work.

"Wes don't talk, you all know that," Woodie huffed. "But he'll behave trust me. He wants it as much as I do."

"And you believe I'm obligated to perform this wedding for you?"

"No but I think you will anyway?"

Max raised his brow curiously.

"Why?"

"Because if you do this for me, I'll wed you and Higgsbury once you two decide to finally tie the knot."

"Why I never!"

Wolfgang chuckled heartily and sighed, shaking his head.

**"Is good idea for small friend and woodsman to be husbands. They work well together."**

"Fine. Fine, I'll wed you both," Max seethed.

"Good."

**"Yes, and once Woodie and Wes become husbands, you can make marriage for Wolfgang and Willow - as you say- official!"**

"Oh by all things!" Max hissed.

Woodie and Wolfgang were both thrown into howls of laughter, tears in their eyes that they had to warm next to the fire so they wouldn't freeze to their cheeks.

The laughter was cut short when the ground began to shake.


	14. I need a Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He's gotta be strong, and he's gotta be fast!

Wes, Wigfrid, and Willow were gathering eggs when they heard the commotion in the main yard. Hoisting their baskets they hurried from the avian room into the quart where they beheld a panicked Max tossed over the shoulder of an even more mortified Wolfgang. Wickerbottom, Wilson, and the two younger children were already surrounding the men with worried looks.

"It is a disgusting creature," they heard Max inform as he squirmed from Wolfgangs grip on him and found his footing.

**"Is wood man! Large and towering, he come up from the ground like great mole!"**

Wes looked around quickly. Woodie was nowhere to be seen. His stomach churned and he swallowed hard. His chest was rising and falling rapidly now and he shifted nervously on his feet.

"Wes," Max breathed, his feet moving in stumbling steps. He placed his hand on the mimes shoulders. "Wes I'm so sorry, there was nothing we could do. It uprooted - the tree guard- Woodie was tangled in the branches when it rose! He disappeared into its pines, we ...we don't think he made it."

The world came crashing down. Reality was tearing itself apart around Wes and he felt sick. He stared in shock and his hands shook. His legs felt weak. He felt like he was going to vomit. The acids in his stomach were eating the lining and his heart felt like it might burst at any moment.

This couldn't be happening! This couldn't be real! Woodie was the strong one! Woodie was the one supposed to protect him! He'd always been the hero.

The thought that Woodie could be dying, or worse already dead ; he couldn't process it.

And then something in his brain snapped and the basket slipped from his hands sending the eggs to the ground, dozens of yolks spilled out of them as they broke on the cobblestone.

Wes felt his expression twist into seething fury and he sprinted to the side gate to throw it open. Wilson and Max ran quickly after him, but they weren't going to stop him, not now.

"Wes! Where are you going?" Max called through worried heaves.

"Where is he?" Wes screamed in demand, stopping Wilson and Max dead in their tracks.

They stared at him wide eyed.

"God dammit it all, Maxwell! Where is he?" He screamed again.

"H-he's off to the northwest. The tree guard is still out there, you won't make it in time."

Wes turned again and picked up his pace. He was a man on a mission.

"Wes, what are you doing?!"

He came to the beefalo gate where the beasts were glowering and bellowing loudly. His hand no sooner touched the door than Wilson's own hand gripped his shoulder.

"Wes, you can't the beefalo are in their rutting season! They'll trample you."

The mime sneered and yanked himself away from the scientist, giving him a push and a warning glare. Wilson backed away slowly.

He breathed hard, looking at the gate to the pin and swallowing. He had to do something. He had to save Woodie.

He gripped the green shawl he wore over his shoulders for warmth and tore it off, biting into it he ripped a strip of cloth and tied it about his head to keep his bangs from his eyes. He reached then to the stand that held the Tail o' Three Cats. He gripped the whip and gave it a hard crack on the ground, earning him the attention of the beefalo in the cage.

The beasts glowered at him and bellowed, stomping their cloven feet in defiance. He glared back and threw open the gate snapping the whip again. They held still a moment.

They stared him down, he stared back. There was a heaviness in the air.

The first stepped forward and scuffed its hooves through the dirt with a mighty clop. It snorted, its eyes narrowing, and charged. Wes tried to move only to be caught by the edge of his shirt and tossed a series of yards. He landed hard on the ground and felt the air knocked out of him. Though he was dazed he forced himself up and bolted toward the gate to lock the others in.

Wes shirt had been ripped open and he was quite shocked to find that he had not been scraped by the sharp antlers on the creatures head. He breathed out shakily, but his determination was not faltering. He tore the sleeve from the other side of his shirt and held the cloth tight in his hand. The whip was still gripped in the other and he raised it high giving it another crack on the ground.

The beast turned and barreled toward him.

Wes pulled the whip back and as the creature approached he swung it, cracking it hard against the bull's face and stunning it for the moment.

While the brute was docile he gripped it by the horns, giving a hard tug. It mewled in defiance but Wes only yanked harder till the beast lowered its head and Wes was able to mount.

The beefalo did not bare their saddles in the winter. Bareback riding even in the summer and autumn was dangerous. In the winter, when the beasts were hostile, even more so.

Wes took the ripped sleeve and tied one end about the left antler, and the the other about the right, securing them as well he could. He twisted his arm into it and gave a tug to test it.

_"Wes wait!"_

He turned back to see Willow, her lighter bared to him.

_"Take this! Light him up for me!"_

She tossed him a spear with a red gem at the very top. He'd seen her use it before.

If this monster were wood then this would surely take care of it.

He nodded his thanks and gave a hard kick to the Bulls side. It jerked and bellowed, then bolted toward the woods.

* * *

 

His plaid shirt had been tattered by the branches- the buttons popped off and it hung open, and his pants legs were torn from the knee down. His head ached with the pounding of coming to from being knocked unconscious and he couldn't get his eyes to focus, but Woodie could feel the bouncing of his torso being shaken by some force all around him.

His eyes slowly adjusted to see the branches and pine needles that surrounded him and panic eased into his gut. The memories came flooding in.

He had been with Max and Wolfgang. They had been cutting trees.

The tree guard had uprooted itself right before Woodie and swiped at him, tangling him in its branches and among its bark. The last thing he saw before the lights went out was the figures of Wolfgang and Max retreating.

Every step the monster took jostled him and made his bones ache. He was certain something had been broken, it had to of been. Pain shot through his body like a thousand needles and made him cry out. He choked on his breath and tears ran down his face. This was unbearable.

A few branches over he saw Lucy. He could hear her grating cries of panic and he felt what little strength he had rearing its head. He hauled himself up on shaky legs, using the trunk of the stumbling beast to walk the branches. A time or two he thought he might fall, but soon he had Lucy in his hand.

He pulled Lucy back readying to strike when he felt something crash below him and he looked down to see a very raggedy mime on a Beefalo.

"Wes! What are you doing?!"

* * *

  
The mime pulled the severed sleeve of his shirt harshly, directing his steed to dodge the trees and boulders in their way. He dug the heel of his shoes into the animals side prompting it to go faster. Finally he heard the heavy steps of a giant and he grit his teeth, the furrowed look of anger taking his expression once more.

Yanking hard he directed the bull till the monster was in view. Within its branches he could see Woodie being tossed about by the titan. He grit his teeth hard and kicked his mount forcefully in the side, steering it directly into the fiend.

The monster stumbled, sending Woodie and Lucy crashing into a set of pines. Woodie grabbed onto a tree trunk, pulling himself from the branches of the beast. He huffed hard, perching on a branch and sucking in heavy breaths. His eyes shifted to the battle raging below and his heart gave a desperate pang.

Wes was down there, and Woodie was for once entirely useless to him! In desperation he began to climb down from the tree as quickly as his arms and legs would let him. His feet touched the ground and he moved quickly to to round the titan and get to Wes.

His heart sank.

The beast pulled it's arm back and swung hard at the smaller male. His body went flying from his mount and the bull bolted into the depths of the forest leaving Wes cold in the snow. Woodie felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

Wes pulled himself shakily from the mound of powdery snow. Something was broken, or at least sprained. The moment he put pressure on his foot he toppled down into the snowbank once again. He heaved in great breaths of pain, looking up once more to see the beast coming at him.

He gripped the fire staff and winced. He could do this. He could save Woodie. He just had to do it.

He flourished the staff at the titan and it bellowed in pain as a blazing orb of light shot at it. It stumbled back and Wes quickly stood, choking through the pain and stumbling in the snow.

Another flourish and the beast retreated further.

Blaze after blaze he blasted at the beast until the tree guard burst into flames. Even still they were not free of this burden, for the beast tottered back into the treeline and soon the forest around them was ablaze.

Woodie stared in horror at all of the orange that was engulfing the trees around him. He swallowed hard and his eyes shifted to Wes. His feet moved quicker than his brain. Sprinting he joined the other and scooped him firmly into his arms.

He ran from the forest as fast as he could till they were in the open field before the camp. He fell to his knees and took Wes face in his hands. That soft, beautiful, almond shaped face.

Wes only stared in shock straight ahead.

The events weren't registering. Everything that had just happened he couldn't process. What had he done? How did he do it? When did it start? When did it end? Was all of that real? Did he really take on a tree guard in blind fury?

"That was not a very nice tree, eh?" Woodie chuckled, the hysteria of the situation far too much for him. What could he say?

Wes seemed to come to, his face twisting and scrunching tightly, and for a moment Woodie thought he might cry. He was about to ask if the other was okay, but Wes' expression turned sour, and mean, and angry. And honestly it scared Woodie quite terribly to see the man looking at him with such an expression.

And Wes reached up, gripping Woodie's face hard and pulling him down till he was right in his face. His ungloved hands brushed thumbs roughly against Woodie's freckles and brushed through his beard. And the angry tears began to run down his face.

"Woodie, listen to me Monsieur, because it is zee last time you will hear me speak. I love you, do you understand. Don't you ever scare me like zat again. I love you. Mon Amour! Mon chéri! Je t'aime! I love you so, so much! "

Woodie was dumbfounded, unsure what to say then. He swallowed and blinked.

"I...love you too."

And then the sobs came, wracking his body and making his shoulder shake. He pressed those black, plump lips against Woodie's and pressed hard into the kiss. And Woodie wrapped his arms around the mime, holding him close and kissing back with just as much Vigor as the fear set into both of them.

The could have lost each other. They could have been separated. They could have been revived miles apart with nothing but the clothes on their back and their defining items in their pockets. Wes would have had nothing but his balloons, Woodie would have had only Lucy. And there's a chance they might not have even remembered each other. And the thought was sickening.

But here they were. They were alive. They were close. They could feel each other. They could smell each other. They could taste each other. They were very much alive, and here, and together and they sat in silence after the kissing had finally stopped and just lay against each other till their thermal stones began to cool.

And then they picked themselves up, Woodie supporting Wes -whose ankle was most certainly sprained- and they went back to the camp.

They were greeted with hugs and kisses. They were held by Wolfgang (who cried). And they were home.

* * *

 

"Is he okay now?" Wickerbottom asked Woodie.

Woodie looked up from the twig he was chewing on just as Zoro leaped into his lap. The kittykit was welcome because the weather was cold, and the small animal was very warm. He stroked the feline's back.

"He's doin' a lot better since he's been takin' the medicine. He doesn't wake up in the middle of the night from the pain now. He must of strained the tendons pretty badly, eh?"

"Possibly even broken it. There's really no way to tell," The woman said, straightening her skirt and sitting down with Woodie.

She pulled her thermal stone from her pocket and held it in her hands to warm them.

"I'm just happy you boys didn't get yourselves killed out there." She adjusted her glasses. "It would have been a shame if you both wound up dead when we have a wedding to plan."

Woodie lifted his head and his brow crinkled curiously.

"How did you..."

"Max told me."

"Ah."

They sat in silence a moment.

"Would you make the clothes for it?"

Wanita smiled and placed her hand on his knee, giving a reassuring squeeze.

"I would be delighted."

* * *

  
Woodie entered the cabin and set Zoro on the bed with Wes. The kittykit moved up and lay on the mime's chest, and Wes smiled softly and stroked the animals back.

"I fed the birds, collected the eggs," Woodie began, pulling a chair close to the bed and straddling it to rest his arms over the back of it. "You feelin' any better."

Wes thought a moment and nodded his head.

"Wickerbottom says she'll make our outfits for the ceremony."

Wes smiled with a warm contentment.

"You do still want to marry me right? Even though I got myself put in danger, and got your ankle all messed up?"

Wes pretended to think a moment, puckering his lips out but smiling and nodding his head shortly after. Woodie chuckled a bit and sighed, resting his chin on the back of the chair.

He thought about everything they had been through. He thought about their first home. He thought about the comfort Wes had brought to him. He thought about the luxuries Wes had gone out of his way to provide just for him. He thought about every hardship Wes had overcome in their time together and Wes uncontested will to push onward despite it all. He thought about how Wes could and would fight for him in any way he needed to if the time called for it. And he wondered how someone like him could be this blessed.

"How did I get so lucky, huh?" Woodie smiled lovingly at his fiance. "I love you, Wes."

And Wes smiled knowingly, that perfect plump smile. And Woodie found it very kissable. And this time he let the temptation win him over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> LOOK AT ALL THE STARS! WE'VE COME SO FAR! EVEN IF WE DON'T KNOW WHERE WE ARE, IT'S GOTTA BE SOMEWHERE GREAT! ~ Ludo
> 
> Good Evening, Readers
> 
> I'm so happy to present to you the final chapter of this fic. 
> 
> This is the first multi chapter fic that I have actually completed and I am very proud of it. I want to thank all of you for sticking it out with me and reading till the end. 
> 
> When I started writing this fic it was simply for a guilty pleasure. It was something a wrote as a gift to myself, and yet all of you have supported this story and shown it considerable admiration and appreciation. 
> 
> Some of you have even found me on tumblr and on DeviantArt and sent me very encouraging messages. And I want all of you to know that I appreciate every single one. 
> 
> So now, if you enjoyed this story, I have a request for you. 
> 
> Leave a kudo, or a comment, share it with your friends. Let's get the WesWood ship a little more recognition so that we can continue to enjoy it, and so that it doesn't die with this fic. 
> 
> Get out there and write your own WesWood stories and gift them to me (or don't, you don't even have to inform me, I check the tag quite often to see if there's anything new). 
> 
> But whatever you decide to do, I hope you'll try to keep this ship fairing the hopeless waves. 
> 
> Thank you all for taking this adventure with me. You all have no idea what it's meant to this fic writer. 
> 
> ~ Sugar


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